A Whole New Life
by GrimmUlquigrrrl
Summary: When Ulquiorra was thirteen, he was locked in an insane asylum for seeing what no one else could, and there he had dreams of himself, not human but loved by a man named Grimmjow. As an adult, can he find the man he is certain is not only a dream?
1. Chapter 1

Ulquiorra Schiffer was dead.

Or, at least as dead as you could get and still be alive.

The thirteen-year-old lay almost comatose in the bed, in the room that he had come to dub his cell. The medications the doctors had shoveled into his mouth made his body heavy and his mind fuzzy, but he wasn't seeing any more of those things that only he saw- those things that got him put into an asylum. Those strange monsters with holes in their torsos and masks on their faces that attacked him. He knew they were real, they had to be; one of them had cut him. Things that don't exist can't cause physical injury- right?

The days were monotonous; no human contact, except for when the nurse came in to bring him food and pills and clean out the commode, no games or trinkets or anything to occupy himself with, just white plaster walls and noiseless air. They days were incredibly monotonous, but the nights were full of color. Ulquiorra had been having these amazing dreams, more vivid than any others that he'd ever had, ad they were rarely the same. They were brilliant- he was watching himself, in an alternate universe, in an alternate reality, and he had no idea what the dreams meant but they were the best part of this dull, humdrum life. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.

[ Ulquiorra zipped up the front of his black and white uniform shirt, the coattails drifting oddly behind him in the air. In Hueco Mundo all things were caught between perpetual stillness and perpetual motion, and the only beings who could break that limbo were those like him, arrancar in Aizen-sama's growing army. Aizen-sama had called a meeting to be held in his throne room, and Ulquiorra quickly checked his reflection to be certain he was presentable in his captain's presence. He saw what he'd always seen, his green eyes and matching tear tracks the only color on his thin, pale face. His chin-length black hair was unmussed, and his garb was all in order. He took his sword from where it leaned on the wall, sliding it into the black sash of his hakama where the green of the hilt contrasted with nearly every part of his black and white form. He was ready for Aizen-sama.

Not wishing to make his lord wait, he walked calmly but briskly down the hallways of Las Noches. It was a massive structure, the halls constantly changing, but the call of the Hogyoku and the man who used it to create superior beings led any arrancar to them. Ulquiorra walked with a slow, easy gait, his back ramrod straight and his hands in his pockets. He had the visage of someone with power, and an aura of coldness that would deter any fool from attempting to so much as talk to him.

He was the second person to arrive after Aizen-sama, the first being the woman in the rank above him, whose name was Hallibel. She was as silent as Ulquiorra, her arms crossed over his coffee-colored stomach, and Aizen-sama merely sat with an unworried and contented expression as he ordered his left-hand man to lay out the tea. The rest of the Espada began to file in, talking and chatting- all except Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, the rugged Sexta Espada, who was always alone and scowling to himself. He was incredibly fierce, and Ulquiorra could never take his eyes away from the teal-haired man's inner fire.

He knew why he couldn't; Grimmjow was the only Espada who could say that he had something resembling a heart, and a heart was the only thing Ulquiorra himself lacked. It was also the only thing that he found truly fascinating. Therefore, watching Grimmjow and his heart strut by was an increasingly entertaining pastime. Nonetheless, when everyone was finding their seat Ulquiorra turned back to Aizen-sama, knowing that within a matter of moments his general would begin speaking.

As Aizen-sama stated calmly that the Privaron, upset at being tossed aside, were whispering of rebellion, Ulquiorra felt something against his knee. He detached part of his brain from the rest, allowing the majority of it to focus entirely on Aizen-sama's words as the other quickly figured out what that thing was. He came to the conclusion that it was Grimmjow's own knee, lightly brushing Ulquiorra's under the table. Ulquiorra did not look over at Grimmjow, who was slumped low in the chair as if he wanted Ulquiorra to realize that he was coming in physical contact with him and turn his eyes that way, though Ulquiorra did have to wonder if perhaps the Sexta really did mean to touch him.

When the meeting was adjourned, everyone got up out of their seats. Ulquiorra did as well, bowing respectfully before Aizen-sama and making his way out of the meeting room with his hands once again in his pockets. Most of the members of the meeting had already dispersed upon entry to the hallway, a large chunk of the less powerful ones hanging around and laughing in a circle. Grimmjow was among them, in the clump but clearly not paying attention. Ulquiorra got a one instant look at the other male before he turned and walked in the other direction, somewhat surprised to see that those cerulean eyes were watching him with an anxious, intent look.

Ulquiorra just walked off, as he always had, turning his back on the man watching him. Ulquiorra lightly puzzled over the look Grimmjow had sent his way, the reason for it, the touching under the table, and why he hadn't moved away. His soft shoes whispered across the floor.

He just walked away.]


	2. Chapter 2

Ulquiorra sat up in his bed, gently touching the spot where there was always a black, gaping hole in his dreams. It always ached, a deep, core-shaking ache that he could still feel once he woke up. He massaged the spot until the pain slowly edged away, thinking of that other him and the strength he could feel when he slept. He wasn't really that strong, and he knew that he never would be, but during his dreams he was someone that everyone else feared. He was in control; control of himself, control of others, control of how people thought about him- he was in control of that world, that Hueco Mundo. It was his only respite from this world where everyone else was in control of him.

If his body didn't demand that he spend at least a few hours awake each day he would sleep forever, just to feel like he was a person worth being. Because obviously, the other him was one. He sighed. He wished he was like that, that he was somebody the people in here would be afraid of. Then he could intimidate his way out of this crazy place, and he wouldn't have to take all the pills, and even if he couldn't get away they would at least let him outside. They wouldn't now, not since they let him out a month ago and he'd seen one of the monsters. He'd screamed (at a rather high pitch) and fell to his knees with his hands over his head as it swooped at him. He could feel the wind of its flight displace the air not an inch above his scalp. They had locked him inside after that, pumping more meds into him that made him feel dizzy. Since there weren't any windows he couldn't even see the sun.

He sighed, running a hand through his stringy hair. He felt gross. He took a deep breath and slowly slid off of his thin mattress, supporting himself on the metal bedframe as he got used to putting weight on his legs again. It had been at least a week since the last time he'd tried to get out of bed. He made his way shakily over to the green-painted metal door, trying to stand on his toes to see out of the small square window through the metal mesh in it. A male nurse was walking his was from not too far down the hall.

Ulquiorra sat back on his heels again, knocking on the inside of the door. It felt so weird, having to knock to be let out. Most people only knocked to announce that they wanted in- only pets scratched to get out. His opinion of himself sunk that much lower. He knocked again timidly, and the nurse called, "Alright, Ulquiorra, I'm right here. I'm going to open the door now, so please step back." Ulquiorra did, and the door swung open. They could only be opened from the outside.

"What do you need?" the male nurse asked, not cruelly. His pink-red scrub shirt was embroidered with the name Bob, but they all were.

"Um, can I take a shower, please?" Ulquiorra asked, fiddling with his fingers. He found that he couldn't look Bob in the eye, but he'd never been able to make eye contact with people to begin with.

"Certainly," Bob said, reaching out and taking Ulquiorra in a firm but tight grip, leading him out by the elbow. "I'll take you."

"Thanks," Ulquiorra said quietly, letting Bob direct him. He wasn't going to question it or try to bolt but he knew that Bob's hold on his arm wasn't going to go away, so he just went with it. As he walked down the long hallway, green doors uniform on either side, starch white walls, depthless tile that made Bob's steps click, he began to shrink more into himself in a feeling of nervousness.

It only got worse as they kept going. It was all so unnaturally perfect, empty silence buzzing in Ulquiorra's ears, and even though Ulquiorra knew that behind every door there was a person like him he couldn't detect any sounds of life. It was like everyone had become husks of who they really were who didn't need to eat or talk or be human- and Ulquiorra knew that he was becoming one too. The hallway seemed to get narrower and narrower.

Bob led him around a corner and stopped, opening a door. "Here we are," he said, his voice fracturing the silence. Ulquiorra was grateful. He hurried into the bathroom, hustling out of that creepy hallway.

It was awkward for him to have Bob watching him as he showered, and he tried to hide as much of his skinny self as he could from those calm eyes. He scrubbed himself down, rubbing until his pale skin turned pink. It felt somehow renewing to wash all of the dirt and grime that had previously been caked on his bony body down the drain with the lukewarm water and suds from the peach-scented soap. All the time Bob just watched him.

Ulquiorra's arms began to feel raw from the thorough cleaning, the rough mesh petals of the puff irritating the tender skin of his neck and collarbone. He roughly rubbed the cheap shampoo into his greasy hair, forcefully rejecting his filth and not much caring who it decided to land on when it was evicted. He shampooed three or four times, desperately needing to be clean even as the water became cold, until he finally felt like all the sweat and muck was off of him. He turned the water off and timidly reached for a towel. Bob handed it to him, and he swiftly dried off before tying it around his waist to hide himself from the nurse. He stood there inelegantly, clasping the top of his forearm with his other hand and trying not to look at Bob.

"Do you want some clean clothes?" Bob asked. Ulquiorra suddenly realized that he'd been wearing the same shirt and pants since he got here a little over three months ago.

"Y-yes, please," he said. Bob opened the one standing storage table, pulling out a new set of things to wear. He pushed through the items a little, trying to find something that would more or less fit the small boy. He handed Ulquiorra a dark grey t-shirt and black sweatpants. The only thing that wasn't too big for him was the boxers included, the rest of it hanging off of him oddly.

Once he was dressed, Bob took hold of his arm again and led him back down the hall. It wasn't any less odd or lifeless than it had been 30 minutes before, much to Ulquiorra's dismay, and once again he had the feeling of looking his fate in the eye. And he didn't like it. He would admit, the closer they got to his room the faster he went, wanting just to get into the safety of that bare little nook that was his cell. He wasn't a particularly paranoid person, but at the moment he would much rather have had to deal with his own silence than someone else's.

He jumped and gasped as the door to his left was suddenly banged on by the person inside, her face filling the window. For a second he was sure his heart had stopped. "Doc," the lady cried, "Doc, I need meds! I need meds! Why won't you listen to me?" By the end she was screeching, but Bob just led Ulquiorra on at a normal pace like he hadn't heard her. Ulquiorra looked back at her.

"Is she an addict?" he asked, turning from the gut-wrenching sight of the screaming, locked up woman to look at Bob. He didn't want to have to see her agonized face.

"She's a hypochondriac," Bob said simply.

"She could get put in here for that?" Ulquiorra asked, horrified.

"She thinks she has cancer," Bob said.

"Well- have you had her checked?" Ulquiorra asked.

"She thinks she has prostate cancer," Bob said. Ulquiorra looked at his shuffling feet, the sweatpants rolled up to his ankles.

"Oh," he said quietly.

They walked on in complete silence, the type of silence that settles heavily on you. Ulquiorra wished that Bob would say something, but the nurse was quiet and content-looking until they reached Ulquiorra's room. "Here you go," Bob said, opening the door and smiling. "If you need everything else, just let me know."

"Okay," Ulquiorra said, walking through the door. "Thanks." Bob just nodded jovially and closed the door. Ulquiorra sat on the bed, wondering if this place even made the workers here go mad.

What sort of a person smiles in an asylum?


	3. Chapter 3

[Ulquiorra felt a new form of power rush through him, completing the change of everything he was as he heard the glass box around him shatter. His change created a wind of power that blew the full-body wrappings off of him, the rough strip of fabric unwinding from him and falling at his knees. He could feel the sword lying on the ground beside him, his new zanpakuto, Mercielago.

He opened his green, slitted eyes for the first time as an arrancar, a being stronger than any that were naturally occurring in this universe. He coldly surveyed his surroundings, the dozen eyes looking at him. He observed them all, memorizing the subtleties in their individual reiatsu and noting who among them had power. The man- not an arrancar, a shinigami, the one who had recruited him with the promise of strength- who stood in front of him was by far the most fearsome of them.

He appeared, using his newfound speed of sonido, next to a blue haired man, pulling the short-cut jacket off of him. He could see the surprise on the other man's face, could feel it in the way he tensed, but easily ignored it. He merely tied his filched clothing around his hips to cover himself. He did this solely for propriety; that is to say, he did not feel the slightest embarrassed or bared, but he was one to strictly follow what he had been told was decent. The blue haired man spun around to see him, his cyan eyes wide. Then anger took over his handsome face, and a type of heat radiated from him that Ulquiorra had never encountered before.

"Hey, you little shit, what do you think you're doing?" the man growled.

"Currently I am standing next to you," Ulquiorra said, "or were you referring to what I have done?" The other arrancar scowled, taking a few steps forward. Ulquiorra had to tilt his head upward to look at that rugged face, but he was not intimidated. He didn't step away- he didn't feel the need to.

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" the other man snarled.

"How would I?" Ulquiorra asked coldly. The other arrancar grew even hotter, and from where he stood so close to him Ulquiorra could feel it on his skin.

"I'm the Sexta Espada, you little twat," he said, taking another step in.

"Step away from me, trash," Ulquiorra demanded icily. The Sexta Espada bubbled over.

"You little-!" he grunted, swinging his fist forward. The muscles in his arms bulged, his knuckles flying Ulquiorra's way. Ulquiorra put one deceptively slim hand up and caught the punch easily. The Sexta's eyes went wide, as if he couldn't believe that some scrawny, pallid arrancar had so simply bested him, but Ulquiorra was not done. He ruthlessly twisted the Sexta's arm, making the man grimace, and quickly let go to hit the side of his face with a sweeping motion. He noted the hollow bone on his one cheek and was careful to hit the other. The Sexta made a short sound before the force of Ulquiorra's blow forced his feet to loose purchase. He went flying, bouncing on the ground. Ulquiorra watched that interestingly passionate being groan and try to force himself up.

The room was dead silent, everyone staring at either him or the slowly standing body in the center of the cavernous room. "What is your name, arrancar?" the shinigami- Aizen, if he remembered correctly- asked him calmly. Ulquiorra turned to look at him. He had a curious look on his face, one not unlike fatherly love despite its minor detachment, and he seemed content. His brown eyes were tepid, but soft. Ulquiorra inclined his head.

"Ulquiorra Schiffer," he replied. Aizen-sama smiled at him.

"Welcome to the Espada, Ulquiorra."

The Sexta glowered.]

Ulquiorra's eyes opened, and he stared at the ceiling. His dreams usually came in an understandable order, but every now and again he would have one that he would have to find a place for on his timeline. This was one of them- though, granted, it wasn't particularly difficult to figure out where this one belonged. Clearly, it was the very beginning of all of it. For some reason, it was enlightening to know how it started, as if it made that world less of something Ulquiorra made up and more of something he was a part of, and had just taken time to stumble upon.

So, the Sexta Espada he knew was Grimmjow, that person that fascinated the other him so much. Actually, he kind of fascinated the real him, too. He was just so free, so independent, so full of life. He was glad that his mind had been so kind as to supply him with someone like that. Even now, Ulquiorra could feel Grimmjow's radiating heat on his chest.

But that Aizen guy… he was just kind of- kind of creepy. He seemed off, somehow, and his smile was transparent. Why on earth would his mind think up someone so deceptive and terrifying?

More importantly, why would the other him trust him?


	4. Chapter 4

Ulquiorra curled into himself, exhausted. He had fought back sleep for nearly three days, unwilling of once to go back to Heuco Mundo. He didn't know just what was bothering him so much, but he knew that something inside of him said that something was waiting for him when he fell back into sleep. Nothing said that it was something bad, but it if it had something to do with that Aizen guy then he knew it would be. That man was just terrible, horrible and slimy and a terrible liar, because Ulquiorra could still tell that he was a malicious person despite his smile.

So Ulquiorra had done all that he could to stay away from there, away from that man, all because of the feeling he had. His nurses had inquired into his sleep-deprived behavior, and had eventually locked him back into his room and stopped listening to his requests to walk around- pretty much all he could do to keep himself awake. Now he was alone, n his quiet, quiet room, having nowhere to sit but his bed and incredibly tired. Sleep pulled at him and dragged him down, and he was just a little weakling. He occludent take the weight pressing down on him, urging him to indulge in his need.

He just couldn't fight anymore.

[Ulquiorra's heels clicked on the tile floors as he walked down the hallway toward the training area reserved particularly for the espada. It had been made by Aizen-sama to withstand eve the highest amounts of spiritual pressure, and theoretically Ulquiorra should have been able to use his release form inside of it. But Ulquiorra had a power that Aizen-sama was yet to discover, if only because it had never come up, and Ulquiorra would not risk destroying the room.

He could see the wild forest of blue hair belonging to the one and only Sexta Espada up ahead, but it was clear that Grimmjow had yet to notice him. Ulquiorra's steps slowed a little, only a little, as he saw the look of worry and distress on Grimmjow's face. It was fascinating, as it was the first time Ulquiorra had seen anything other than uncertainty on that expressive face, and Ulquiorra wanted to study it a little more. However, as he neared Grimmjow at last became aware of his presence and looked up. He appeared surprised, oddly not-ready, but still looked like something was causing him stress.

Though the look was interesting,Ulquiorra did not stop to ponder it. "Get out of the way, Sexta," he ordered, and in the almost-silence his voice felt loud. Grimmjow appeared to waver, but he didn't move even as Ulquiorra advanced. In the incredibly narrow hallway, Ulquiorra could see that he wouldn't be able to pass Grimmjow the way he was. "Move, Sexta," he said again with just slightly more force behind his voice, and Grimmjow quickly stepped aside, watching Ulquiorra breeze fast with a strange look on his face.

Ulquiorra did not look back at him as he continued back down the hallway, but he could feel Grimmjow watching him as he walked away. There was a kind of tenseness hanging in the atmosphere. Then Grimmjow broke the stillness, taking a step toward Ulquiorra; Ulquiorra was interested to see what the other man would do. "W-wait!" Grimmjow spluttered, "I-I have something to say." Ulquiorra didn't stop, just continuing forward, and he felt Grimmjow get frantic. "Hey! I have something to say!" he repeated, using sonido to get right behind Ulquiorra quickly and grab his shoulder, a show of idiotic bravery that Ulquiorra would admit surprised him.

He allowed himself to be turned around, facing the taller man who suddenly seemed again to be seized by a paralyzing kind of fear. Ulquiorra was intrigued; in all the fights they'd had, and all the times Ulquiorra had seen Grimmjow in battle, never once had the other man appeared to be frightened. Grimmjow swallowed, looking Ulquiorra in the eye, and Ulquiorra would have sworn that, had the forced of Heuco Mundo not been holding him still, he almost looked like he would be shaking. Ulquiorra allowed his eyes to narrow a little at the other man.

"Either say what you will say or promptly unhand me," he ordered icily, and again Grimmjow gulped. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He gaped like a fish, and Ulquiorra could see that he was quickly getting more anxious. Ulquiorra couldn't help but be fascinated by the desperation he saw, and he wondered why it was there and how saying something to him would aid it. He felt something, though, that he didn't know he had and was akin to what humans called hope. He didn't like that it was there, and he also didn't know why it was.

Grimmjow shut his mouth, clearly deciding that he just couldn't speak in that moment. Ulquiorra took a step back and started to turn, but Grimmjow's hand tightened on his shoulder and he stopped, cocking a brow at the other arrancar. He could feel Grimmjow's heat through his shit where that hand gripped him. Grimmjow, too, looked like that human emotion was rampaging inside of him, but it was clear that nervousness was checking it. Grimmjow both stepped forward and pulled Ulquiorra in, to which Ulquiorra wielded purely out of interest, and looked down at the green-eyed man who was now only inches from touching his chest. Ulquiorra would admit confusion, both at the look on Grimmjow's face and the close proximity of their bodies.

His confusion, along with the foreign hope in his chest, increased as Grimmjow wet his lips nervously before taking a deep breath and hesitatingly leaning down. Ulquiorra felt the urge to step away as his space was invade, but he stayed firmly rooted to the spot as if the stillness of Heuco Mundo was leaping back on him at last as Grimmjow's face came ever clos-]

Ulquiorra jumped nearly out of his skin, shooting up as he was jerked harshly back into himself. His eyes wide, he stared at the nurse who had woken him up as he breathed heavily, like he hadn't taken a breath of air in years. He felt his heart beating wildly, even painfully, in his chest, and the world came slamming back into hi with a harsh reality. The nurse just looked at him.

"Are you alright there? You were sleeping in such an awkward position. Does your neck hurt?"

Ulquiorra lay properly in his bed this time, the covers pulled up to his chin. He stared at the ceiling, bombarded with far too many thoughts. He had only gotten a few hours of sleep before being woken up, but as yet he hand't been able to get back to bed. The other him may not have recognized the look in Grimmjow's eyes, but the real him did. He had seen it in movies before, an he knew what would have happened next.

Despite that, he wasn't disgusted. Just, oddly enough, nervous. That would be his first kiss. But why did his mind want it to be with a guy? Did- did that mean he was gay? Since the other him didn't know what was going on and so didn't either enjoy it or not enjoy it, he couldn't tell. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to or not, but- wouldn't he find out eventually anyway? Granted, thirteen was a little young to be discovering such things, but now that he'd stumbled upon it he figured he had to know. Maybe this stuff was popping up now because he'd been so alone here for so long, but he guessed that it didn't really matter why.

This kind of confusion was really starting to bother him. He wanted to know, and- and he wanted to have somebody close to his heart, even if only in his dreams. He wouldn't deny that he was lonely, and he didn't want to be that lonely anymore. Even if it was with another guy... At least that would mean that he would get held, because he knew Grimmjow would rather be the one doing the holding. That was just the kind of person Grimmjow was, but what kind of person was he?

He knew what he had to do to find out.


	5. Chapter 5

[Grimmjow shut his mouth, clearly deciding that he just couldn't speak in that moment. Ulquiorra took a step back and started to turn, but Grimmjow's hand tightened on his shoulder and he stopped, cocking a brow at the other arrancar. He could feel Grimmjow's heat through his shit where that hand gripped him. Grimmjow, too, looked like that human emotion was rampaging inside of him, but it was clear that nervousness was checking it. Grimmjow both stepped forward and pulled Ulquiorra in, to which Ulquiorra wielded purely out of interest, and looked down at the green-eyed man who was now only inches from touching his chest. Ulquiorra would admit confusion, both at the look on Grimmjow's face and the close proximity of their bodies.

His confusion, along with the foreign hope in his chest, increased as Grimmjow wet his lips nervously before taking a deep breath and hesitatingly leaning down. Ulquiorra felt the urge to step away as his space was invade, but he stayed firmly rooted to the spot as if the stillness of Heuco Mundo was leaping back on him at last as Grimmjow's face came ever closer. Ulquiorra could feel the space between them pricking not he tiny hairs over his nose and cheeks, and as Grimmjow paused and nearly shook it was evident that some sort of contact would occur. Ulquiorra got the inkling that it wouldn't be a surprise headbutt.

It wasn't. Grimmjow quickly leaned in those last few centimeters, capturing Ulquiorra's dual-colored lips with his own. Ulquiorra's eyes went wide, and he suddenly very much felt that his personal space had been horribly violated. He had heard of this once, on a trip to the human world, and it was called a kiss. It was a display of deep affection. How interesting. Grimmjow pulled off quickly, panting and holding Ulquiorra by both shoulders like he thought that Ulquiorra would run away, and Ulquiorra just looked at him calmly. Grimmjow looked stricken. He lunged in again, and this time seemed downright desperate in his fervent attack.

Ulquiorra could feel how rough Grimmjow's lips were, and it was a surprisingly enjoyable feel. Grimmjow held onto him hard, crushing their mouths together, and Ulquiorra realized what grimmjow was going to say. Ulquiorra allowed his chin to tilt up, allowing for better access, without taking his hand from his pockets. This was, to him, an interesting occurrence that gave him a more inside type of access to his favorite specimen. Granted, it was a very passionate specimen, but that was why it was his favorite. Grimmjow was fascinating.

He decided- partially with the thing in his chest- to let this run his course and see where it went. When Grimmjow's hands left his shoulders to clasp his face and eat at him frantically, Ulquiorra let his tongue flick out (he had read of it in some sappy romance novel he vaguely remembered) to lap at Grimmjow's lips, and Grimmjow gasped. Then the devouring grew even more heated, and Ulquiorra felt Grimmjow's sandy tongue force its way between his lips, invading his mouth, and his hands came out of their pockets to sit on Grimmjow's chest warningly. Grimmjow barely seemed to notice, poking Ulquiorra's tongue with his own until Ulquiorra moved it and tilting his head so their noses wouldn't block their way. Ulquiorra would have sighed, if he had been anyone but Ulquiorra.

He figured he could put up with Grimmjow's touchiness.]

Ulquiorra lay there, the dream over but far from forgotten. His eyes still closed, he could imagine for a moment that he still felt Grimmjow's lips on his and his big hands on his face. For a moment the memory was firm, but slowly it became weaker and then just a ghost. Ulquiorra felt it leave, and then he opened his eyes. He knew right then and there that he wanted that touch back.

Ulquiorra would admit that he felt restless. He had been in his bed too long, and he just had to move around. There was a workout room, but, well, the last time Ulquiorra was there a big man with a lot of tattoos had almost knocked his brain right out of his head. The man hadn't seemed to be able to talk, just making animalistic grunting, heaving sounds, and when Ulquiorra had failed to understand the meaning of it the man had gotten upset. His meaty hands, which he'd used to try to sign things to Ulquiorra- and inevitably Ulquiorra could make no sense of it- were suddenly being used to attack him.

Yeah, Ulquiorra didn't want to go back there.

He settled for standing up, lazily doing knees as he looked around for something to do. His whole body was telling him to exercise, to make use of his minimal muscles, and upon seeing the little chest (he didn't know what it held) at the foot of his bed he decided to try lifting that a few times. He walked around and over to it, giving it a once-over. The chest itself didn't appear that heavy, it was just plain and wooden, and Ulquiorra figured that whatever was inside of it couldn't be that heavy either. He bent down, then remembered something some PE teacher had told him about lifting with your legs. He got down on a knee.

He tried to find some purchase for his fingers, either on the bottom or on the chest itself. But the sides of the chest were perfectly smooth and flat, and the bottom was so much so that Ulquiorra couldn't have fit a needle between it and the floor. It was a perfect seam. Ulquiorra tried to pry it up enough to get his thin fingers under it, but he couldn't get it up no matter how hard he tried. There was no way this thing could be that heavy, right? Unless they were putting cinderblocks in there, Ulquiorra doubted it. Ulquiorra leaned down to look at the seam, hoping to find some flaw through which he could lift the chest, and found that it was nailed to the ground. Of course. They didn't want any crazy people lifting anything and throwing it at the nurses. He noticed for the first time that his bed was nailed down too.

He felt something press down on him that made him feel funny, in a way like everyone thought he belonged here, and he stood up and backed away. He just- he really didn't like that. He quickly turned away, forcing the odd feeling out of his mind before it shut him down and searching again for something physical to do. All there was in the room was a floor, four walls, a door, and two pieces of nailed-down furniture. There was a commode, too, but Ulquiorra didn't particularly want to have to touch that. He'd always thought it was kind of weird to have a toilet right there in your bedroom.

Well, he could do push-ups, right? And sit-ups too, he guessed. And knees. Yeah, that would work. He got on the floor, lying down on his stomach with his hands by his shoulders. Honestly, he was really, really bad at push-ups, and sit-ups, and knees. Anything that required any sort of physical strength was hard for him, really. He was just pathetic, and he always had been. He hated exercise- but right now, he needed it. He feebly lifted himself up off the ground, locking his elbows when he was up as far as he could go and sat there for a second. Maybe he was trying to be more like the other him. He went down.

He hand't ever felt the need to become more like that other him before, but he guessed it made sense. After all, the other him was strong, powerful, feared, and _loved._ The sheer amount of need in Grimmjow's crazy kiss had proved that to him, and really Ulquiorra was striving for _that. _He wanted to be with someone like Grimmjow, with that same kind of unstoppable passion, and he wanted it to be more than a dream. If the other him could have that, then all he had to do was become like that other him. He struggled to lift himself again.

He could still, in a part of him, feel Grimmjow there. He knew that should freak him out, but it didn't. It really just...reassured, was that the word? It reassured him. He knew it was stupid to get so attached to, basically, an imaginary friend, but getting attached was better than being so ridiculously alone all the time. It didn't even bother him that Grimmjow was a man; actually, Ulquiorra realized that he just couldn't see himself with a woman. Not that there was anything wrong with women, he just...he just didn't understand them. He realized that he never had.

His arms gave out a little, and he almost face-planted on the floor. He stopped himself just centimeters away from cracking his head open, which would definitely not be something he wanted to do. He might not have particularly liked it here, but that didn't mean he wanted to commit suicide. Especially not now, when he had something to look forward to more than ever. Actually, it almost felt like it was just...right, to be with Grimmjow, like he'd known all along that's what would happen. The last the he could do just then was complain.

Still, it figured it would be a good time to switch to sit-ups.


	6. Chapter 6

Ulquiorra struggled to force his head and shoulders under his leg where he held the runner's stretch, feeling his back and thigh protesting. He winced and resituated his shoulders before trying again. At some point during his workout the idea of Droznin had occurred to him, and he liked the Russian form of stretching better than what he'd been doing. It was less about strength and more about flexibility, which was something he was much better at.

The doorknob clacked, and Ulquiorra pulled his head out from the awkward pose to look at the green-painted door. The door swung open a little and Bob, the same Bob who had taken him to the shower, slipped in with a tray of food and a little Dixie cup that Ulquiorra knew held his pills. Bob saw him on the floor in a runner's stretch and said, "You know you can just ask and I can take you to the gym, don't you?" as the door closed with a click. Ulquiorra grimaced a little remembering the last time he was there as he stood up.

"I know, I just... I don't like going there," he responded. It was true- that room was equally as gray as every other room, full of machines and occasional people in hospital gowns walking on treadmills and murmuring to themselves in made-up languages. It was almost as creepy as walking down the hallway.

"Alright, I understand," Bob said with that eerie smile as Ulquiorra sat down on the edge of his bed. Ulquiorra's mind made the connection between that smile and Aizen's smile, and he wondered if Bob hand't been the inspiration for his dreams' most creepy character. Bob put the food down on the bed and picked up the cup, which Ulquiorra held his hand out for like every other day. "Here now, swallow these." There were four pills in the cup: a long pink-ish one, a little round yellow one, and two white ones that were different sizes. Ulquiorra threw all of them into his mouth together, taken the water given to him and using it to make him gulp them down. One of them left a bitter residue.

"Good job," Bob said with a kind of ringing fake tone in his voice. Yup, he was just like Aizen. Granted, he looked real different, with dirty blonde hair and lukewarm grey eyes, but he was definitely a real-life Aizen. He patted Ulquiorra's knee, and then he stood up and went to the door. "If you need anything else, just knock." Then he was out, and Ulquiorra picked up the tray of food and put it on his lap. The plates and silverware were made out of shatterproof plastic, and the ends of the fork were rounded. He wasn't given a knife. The lunch today was a little salad in a bowl and some pre-cut sandwiches, with a side of corn off the cob. Actually, when Ulquiorra first got here he was surprised at how decent the food was.

It was still kind of creepy the way Bob had touched his leg, though.

[Ulquiorra had underestimated just how touchy-feely Grimmjow would be.

Grimmjow kept his hands to himself whenever anyone else was around, but the moment they were alone Ulquiorra found himself pressed against a firm chest with fingers everywhere on him. It was becoming tedious. After their kiss, Grimmjow had shown up at his door and said, "Hey, we should go down to the kitchen, lock ourselves in and have coffee. We're dating now, right?" Ulquiorra had looked at him- his face looked quite eager with an almost boyish happiness- and mulled over his choices for a moment before saying that yes, they were, and coffee sounded good. But now the last thing he wanted was to have to spend time with the man.

Ulquiorra walked down the tight hallway where Grimmjow had originally confessed to him, heading to the training room where Grimmjow had asked to meet. Ulquiorra had complied, but he wasn't going for Grimmjow's sake. He fully intended to break it off and be rid of this. It was not as entertaining as he had anticipated, and seeing Grimmjow so often had taken away from his allure.

Granted Grimmjow, was not clingy, just incredibly hands-on. He did leave Ulquiorra to his devices, but when he was around Ulquiorra could forget about personal space. He didn't feel bad about leaving- after all, he was not particularly attached and eh didn't care how Grimmjow would take it. It had been nearly two and a half weeks, so at least Grimmjow got some time.

Ulquiorra walked into the training room, which was large and had very high ceilings. It had actual ground, but no grass or vegetation as Heuco Mundo was the realm of the dead and long forgotten. Nothing could make life here. Grimmjow who was sitting on one of the many small boulders, saw Ulquiorra and sprang up with an excited smile on his face. Ulquiorra remained perfectly calm, ignoring the little thing that withered just a little as he said, "I have something to say, Grimmjow."

"I know," Grimmjow said, looking a little sheepishly guilty, and his admission took Ulquiorra slightly aback. This he had bot been expecting. "And I wanted to say I was sorry. I guess I've been a little overzealous with you, and I promise I'll tone it down. It's just hard for me, 'cuz I've wanted you to be mine for so long, but I'm gonna fix it. Swear. Oh, hey, look at this! C'mere!" Grimmjow said, waving Ulquiorra over with, as he'd said, zeal. Over the whole of Grimmjow's little speech, Ulquiorra had become more and more stunned; the last thing he'd expected was that Grimmjow, who seemed to him particularly blind to most things, would recognize his dissatisfaction and why it had come about. Grimmjow looked back at him when he realized that he wasn't following, smiling and waving him closer again. Ulquiorra went.

He followed Grimmjow a little way out, farther away from where people trained, and then Grimmjow stopped. He looked like a little boy in a candy shop. "There," he said proudly, pointing at the ground. "Look at that." Ulquiorra looked at him, then looked down, and the he started in the most basic form of surprise. Grimmjow grinned triumphantly. There, in the rocky ground, was a little green thing. It was a young plant, a _plant_, what kind Ulquiorra didn't know, but it was a growing, living thing. Ulquiorra had never seen one- and of course he couldn't remember his life.

"You grew a plant," he said slowly, disbelievingly, as Grimmjow gripped his far shoulder and pulled him close. Ulquiorra didn't mind it, for once.

"A tulip," Grimmjow said proudly. "I went all the way to the living world to get the seed."

"You grew a plant in Hueco Mundo," Ulquiorra said, uncharacteristically stuck on that one fact. This, in and of itself, entirely destroyed everything he'd always thought of Hueco Mundo as- it was no longer a place where nothing could live, no longer a place where caring nurture would get you nowhere. And _Grimmjow,_ the ruthless Sexta Espada, had done it all. Grimmjow looked at Ulquiorra's expression.

"You okay there, babe?" he asked, jostling Ulquiorra just a little. Ulquiorra just kept staring at the flowerless tulip.

"I- yes," he said. "Yes, I am." Grimmjow laughed again, a joyous noise that came out from deep in his gut. Even Ulquiorra, who knew nothing about a person's inner working feelings, could just _feel_ the happiness radiating from him. Even when he stopped laughing and nuzzled into the top of Ulquiorra's head. Ulquiorra could tell that he was still smiling.

"Glad to hear it," he said fondly. "I really am sorry."

Ulquiorra closed his eyes and shook his head. Grimmjow had done it- and the only living thing in Hueco Mundo existed just for them. Ulquiorra put one hand on Grimmjow's warm, uncovered chest, feeling him against his palm, still shaking his head. Grimmjow chuckled again. "Do you accept my apology?" he asked, nose buried in Ulquiorra's sleek black hair. Ulquiorra patted that tan chest.

"Let's go make ourselves some coffee," he said, turning his back on the tiny budding miracle and heading out of the training room. Grimmjow smiled widely and jogged after him, catching up and taking his shoulder again. Ulquiorra didn't mind the closeness.]


	7. Chapter 7

Ulquiorra beamed up at Bob as he walked in with his food. It was the same Bob as yesterday, but honestly just then Ulquiorra didn't care about the oddity. Bob blinked at his radiant expression, coming into the room. "Well, you certainly look happy today," he said. "Has something happened?"

Ulquiorra swung his legs where they hung over the edge of the bed, just _happy._ Just simply, gloriously happy again for the first time in way too long. "Sort of," he said as Bob set the tray down next to him.

"Really?" Bob asked with the same queer fakeness in his voice, but Ulquiorra didn't hear it. Bob handed him the cup of pills and Ulquiorra downed them like he always did, except this time the bitter taste didn't make him wrinkle his nose. "Why don't you tell me about it?" Ulquiorra stopped. Even through the rose-colored glasses he was wearing, he could tell that something about this was off. It was a tiny, annoying gnat that was just ruining everything, and Ulquiorra scrunched up his face in distaste.

"But- don't you have to get food to everyone else?" he asked. Bob just kept smiling.

"I'm not usually a food carrier," he said. "I'm only taking to a few rooms. Yours is the last."

"Oh," Ulquiorra said, perking up again. Well, he was worried over nothing. That was a perfectly good reason- and Bob was the first person to actually facilitate a conversation with him since he'd gotten here, so who was he to complain? "Well, it was a dream," he said, then snorted a little. "I mean, you know nothing ever happens here. But it was _great._ It was in this, this world where nothing is alive, right? Like, everything and everyone that's there is dead. Kind of like heaven, but this place sucks and heaven doesn't." Bob nodded,and Ulquiorra continued, using his hands to illustrate.

"Well, there's this- this person there," he said, being careful not to let slip that it was a guy, "this really wonderful, spectacular person, and they managed to go all the way to a place where things live, just to get a tulip seed. Then they planted it," he said excitedly, "and it grew! It actually grew! That-that person made something grow, in that place, and it must have taken so much work but they did it anyway. They must have spent_ hours_ on their knees in the dirt! But they did it, and it was so beautiful, and I'd never seen anything like it, and, and-" he got so excited that he couldn't keep talking anymore. He'd felt something in him lift higher and higher the more he thought about it.

"Wow," Bob said, and Ulquiorra didn't even notice how lackluster it was. "What color was it?"

"I don't know yet," Ulquiorra answered. "It hasn't- it hadn't blossomed yet. It's just a baby right now, but that person's gonna take such good care of it that it'll grow big and beautiful- as long as no one else finds it. Nobody in that place would let it live- well, except for that person." bob hummed and nodded.

"Uh-huh," he said. "And can you tell me about this person?" Ulquiorra's smile got even wider.

"Oh, they're the _best_ person," he said. "Just the best. They're so,so- passionate about everything that happens, and they don't ever let things go, including people, and even though they always seem angry they're really just at a loss for words. They really don't know how to think things out before they say something and it just comes out all wrong and then they feel like they have to try to say it right, even though everyone already understands what they meant." Ulquiorra laughed a little, like at some private joke, and he guessed it was.

"I see," Bob said, though he really didn't. Ulquiorra didn't care. "You seem to know a lot about this person. How is that?"

"Oh, well, I've been having a lot of dreams with this person in them," he said. "Tons and tons."

"Really?" Bob said. "Can you tell me about them?" Ulquiorra grinned and started in his hands becoming pencils with which he drew out the story scene by scene. He didn't notice the carefully hidden, calculating look behind bob's eyes.

[Ulquiorra was beginning to recognize what it was that Grimmjow had that captivated him so much. It was a heart.

Arrancar didn't have hearts, or feelings other than what was sheer and primal. In their degradation to hollows, they had lost all of those human things; and yet, it was so swiftly becoming clear that Grimmjow had not lost his. From the way he smiled to the way he yelled in anger, he had emotions beyond what an arrancar should have, and it was that lasting shred of humanity that drew Ulquiorra to him. Things that Ulquiorra did not understand called to him- he could only assume that he had been some sort of scientist or detective in his life.

Ulquiorra sat at the writing desk that he had in his room, writing down the important events of the day. Aizen-sama had issued an order that every arrancar log the happenings of their "life" so that he could understand better how to make them comfortable in his grand kingdom, and as Ulquiorra was a loyal and obedient soldier eh did as he was told. Of course, he left out his encounters with Grimmjow. He was not comfortable writing down and solidifying them as fact to the world beyond him and Grimmjow.

He was finding it interesting, what was happening between them. It was certainly worth the first to weeks to get to this point. Grimmjow had kept his word and backed off, and that made it so much easier to be around him. And he was, what was the term, pulling him out of his shell, or at least Ulquiorra let him believe that he was. Ulquiorra agreed to do things that under any other circumstances he would rather not do, and putting up with things that he would rather not have to deal with, because he wanted to see where this went. Grimmjow could be difficult, but Ulquiorra couldn't deny that the man had an excellent sense for romance. Ulquiorra, of course, was impartial, but he would say that he had come to enjoy the attention that Grimmjow lavished on him.

There was a knock on the door, and Ulquiorra stood behind his desk. Before he could take a single step, however, the knocking came again, more frantic. Ulquiorra frowned. All the Espada's rooms were proofed from reiatsu from outside, so that any fight happening in the halls wouldn't bother any of Aizen's finest, but even deprived of this sense Ulquiorra had a strong feeling that he knew who was past the door. The knocking got louder, more emphatic, and although he sighed as he walked over Ulquiorra felt a twinge of worry; something in him _knew_ it was Grimmjow, and they had agreed to never show up at each other's door in case anyone saw.

He opened the door, and Grimmjow immediately crashed inside, pulling Ulquiorra with him. Ulquiorra stumbled with him, green eyes widening as he was pulled around the corner so that no one could see them through the still open door, Grimmjow's big hands on his arms. "Ulquiorra, oh shit, Ulquiorra are you okay?" Grimmjow asked in a rush, and Ulquiorra blinked. His stunned silence must have made Grimmjow even more upset, for his large hands tightened and pulled Ulquiorra's smaller form closer. "Ulquiorra? Baby? Come on tell me you're all right, baby, please-"

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra said firmly, cutting off his partner's babble. Grimmjow snapped his mouth shut. "Thank you. Now, what in the blazes are you talking about?"

"There was an explosion from a backfired cero just a few doors away from your room," Grimmjow said. "There's seriously a twenty-foot hole in the floor that ends, like, an inch away from your wall. Did you not hear it?" Ulquiorra's eyebrows twitched down, a display that would have been restrained were anyone but Grimmjow there.

"No, I did not," he said. Grimmjow's face changed to utter confusion.

"Wait, really?" he asked. "I was in Tower 13 and I heard it from there." Ulquiorra frowned more. "You really didn't hear it, did you?"

"No," Ulquiorra said. Grimmjow shook it off, ignoring the curiousness in favor of clasping Ulquiorra's face and running his thumbs down the teartracks there.

"Well, I'm glad you're safe," he said, pressing his coarse lips against Ulquiorra's forehead. Ulquiorra surrendered, letting Grimmjow's touch smooth some of the wrinkles of displeasure around his brow. Something seemed distinctly wrong to him, but he wasn't sure what. Grimmjow had already moved on.

Only Ulquiorra remained pensive.]


	8. Chapter 8

Ulquiorra did his sit-ups with full vigor, a bright smile on his face. He could still feel Grimmjow's lips against his hairline like a ghost (he realized what a pun that was) and the thrill of Grimmjow's worry for him, and each gave him a new energy. That little press of lip against skill showed so much, stripping Grimmjow of his lovably rough exterior and showing his beating, bleeding heart to the world- or maybe just to Ulquiorra. The display of caring affection amazed him; no one had ever shown him a love like that, and he guessed he never knew how much he yearned for it until his dreams told him.

He knew the other him hadn't ever known a closeness like that either, but it hadn't completely thrown him for a loop so Ulquiorra was sure that he'd gotten used to it. He could feel the other him opening up to Grimmjow, and he knew that wouldn't have happened fast. He wished he had a better idea of how much time had passed.

Grimmjow's worry, though, _had_ utterly perplexed the other him. Ulquiorra would admit that he could understand why it would, given the way the other him thought. The worry was, for all intents and purposes, illogical. The blast hadn't reached his room, and even if it had he was too powerful to be hurt. And even if he had been, he had rapid regeneration. The other him did, anyway. But even though the worry was useless and illogical, the real him savored it. It made something inside of him glow with joy, trill and sing inside his chest. Someone _worried_ about him. Somebody cared whether or not he was alright. There was a person, even if only a figment of his imagination, who wanted to be sure that he was comfortable and safe.

His lower back hurt as he flopped down onto his bed. He'd decided to do his pushups and sit-ups on the mattress in case he fell and face-planted like he almost had before. He sighed and smiled. It felt good to work his body again, and it felt good to know what he was working towards. He wanted so bad to be like that other him. Then he could have someone like grimmjow. He wasn't shy anymore about being in love with a man. He couldn't see the difference.

There was an announcing knock on the door, and it opened to show the regular bob. By the regular bob, ulquiorra meant Aizen-Bob. "Hello," Bob said, "I brought your food."

"Hi," Ulquiorra said.

"So," Bob asked as he came over to the bedside, "have you had any more of those dreams?" ulquiorra blinked, surprised by the coldness behind the facade of friendliness. Why hadn't he seen that before? Then he remembered that bob had been his Aizen template, and was immediately wary.

"Just a few," he said, dimming down their predominance in his life. Bob smiled fakery, handing ulquiorra his Dixie cup of pills. Ulquiorra looked down into it, and immediately panic welled up in him. "There's a new pill in here," he said, forcing his fear back. There had to be a reason. There had to be a logical reason. Bob smiled stickily, and ulquiorra inwardly shuddered with a kind of fear at that look.

"You're right," the man said, and something in ulquiorra recoiled at the annoyance that was carefully masked in the man's tone. He hadn't thought that ulquiorra would notice it. "It's just a little something to help you grasp hold of reality."

The dreams. He meant the dreams. Ulquiorra just knew, just _knew_ that the pill would take the dreams away. He could feel it, as if he'd been told aloud, and he numbed. No. _No._ He _needed_ grimmjow, needed that love. He should be terrified, frantic, desperate, so much else, but the influx of emotion shut him down. He was too stunned to speak, to think, to reason a way out. He stared at the offending pill in the cup, feeling with acute certainty everything he had left to cling to falling away. He felt bob's hand resting like a poisonous scorpion on his knee, and that lying, friendly voice said, "Don't worry, ulquiorra. Your dreams aren't helping you get along. Out goal is to put you back into society, and you have to do this in order for us to do that. Okay?"

Bob held the glass of water up to him, and he took it numbly. He felt bob watching him and dumped the pills into his mouth, drinking the water obediently. Bob smiled and patted his knee as he stood. "Good job," he said. "You'll be happier for this, Ulquiorra, I promise." He walked out, and ulquiorra didn't watch him leave.

He took the pills out from under his tongue and threw them into the commode.


	9. Chapter 9

Ulquiorra paced his floor. What had he been thinking? If anyone figured out that he'd thrown out his pills, he would be strapped to his bed and forced to take them intravenously. Oh, he didn't want that. The life he'd been living was fine, just fine; he could have been perfectly okay living life like he had. It wasn't that bad- he couldn't even really remember life outside- but he was bout to have it pulled out from under him, and it was all his own fault.

Oh, why had he ever told Bob about his dreams? He was sure that Bob was behind all of if. Of course he was. Bob was Aizen, and Aizen was always behind everything. Ulquiorra shook his head vigorously, his hair flying around and hitting his cheeks. How stupid was he? Aizen wasn't real- but Bob was, and Ulquiorra couldn't do anything about it. He wanted to toss something, turn something over, but he couldn't. Everything was bolted down.

Why had he had such a crazy reaction to Aizen-Bob anyway? He'd completely distrusted the man the instant he'd walked in- not that it wasn't good that he had, but why all of a sudden? Hadn't he been just a few days ago trusting him with the secrets of his dreams? Did it have anything to do with the doubt in his dream beforehand, or was he really secretly crazy? He dismissed that thought vehemently. He couldn't starting thinking like that, or he really would go insane. He knew he wasn't out of his mind. He wasn't like the man who believed that the government monitored his movements because he was a ginger, or like the girl who had shoved her doll down her infant brother's throat for taking a puzzle of hers out of the drawer, or like the guy who always sat on the couch in the common room as still as a statue and never blinking or moving or talking until yo got too close and he leapt up and started hitting you.

No, he just saw things that weren't there.

He pursed his lips together, his hands tightening where he held his own arms. This was why he'd stopped trying to think about things; all it ever did was agitate him, and there wasn't anything he could do to alleviate his frustration. He needed something to _do,_ something to take out his anger on. He needed Grimmjow.

In absence of that, the only thing he could do was keep pacing. He'd checked a few minutes ago and the pills had dissolved in the commode, so there wasn't any evidence, but Ulquiorra realized that he shouldn't have thrown _all_ the pills away. He was more anxious than he had been since he came here. He couldn't sit down, he couldn't stop worrying, he couldn't relax. He had always had trouble with anxiety, seeing as how he was constantly dodging attacks from inhuman things that no one else could see. But he knew they were real, because of the bruises and cuts and welts that other people admitted were very there. He needed to find out which pill the anxiety was helped by, so he could take it. But he refused to take the pill that would take his dreams away from him.

He knew he was taking an insane risk by doing what he was doing. If he was found out, the rest of his life would be hell- he wasn't stupid enough to think that he would ever get out of here. He knew that this was where he was going to live and die, without ever touching the outside world again. Bob said that they wanted to reintegrate him into society, but he knew that wasn't a fact. Grimmjow was all he had, and all he would ever have. Even his family didn't come to see him anymore. If he lost his dreams, he will have lost it all.

Even if he was too young to fully understand living the rest of his life here, he knew that his existence will have meant nothing even to himself if he lost Grimmjow. That vivid man was his only important achievement- to him, knowing that he could create such an incredible person, even if only in his subconscious, was a thing to be proud of. And what if he did take the medicine, what then? He was certain that the dreams existed to supply what he needed: affection, touch, activity, and he felt that if he could no longer supply those things to himself then he would stop caring whether or not he lived or died. And when that happened, his heart would just stop beating.

Hadn't it been proven that affection was essential to life? Ulquiorra could have sworn that he'd heard of some scientific study where they supplied some infants with food, drink, clothes, shelter and everything else they needed but never touched them, and some infants with barely enough to live healthily but held and loved them often, and the babies who weren't shown love had died. Ulquiorra felt like he was one of those babies. He would expire if he didn't have the care that his dreams provided him, no matter how well the needs of his body were met.

He thought about a bird in a cage. The bird had brilliantly blue feathers and a yellow head, and the tips of its wings were a fiery red. It was a beautiful bird, and it sung with incredible vocation. But the cage in which it sat was no real cage- the bird stood upon a heart, clutching it hard, surrounded by lungs and ribcage and collarbone. Ulquiorra knew, somehow, that the heart was his ow. Hope is the thing with feathers...

He stopped his frantic pacing. He had forgotten what it was like to think like that. His head hadn't felt this clear in a long time, even behind the smoke of anxiety as it was. It was a jolt to realize that they had been keeping him from retaliating by drugging him into a stupor.

"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul," he recited aloud, surprised by how strong his voice suddenly sounded as it bounced around the room and at the fact that he still remembered this poem, "and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all. And sweetest in the gale is heard and sore must be the storm that could abash the little bird that kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chillest land, and on the strangest seas, yet never in extremity it asked a crumb of me." He paused at the end of it, then something swelled in him and he burst into another.

"We are the music-makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams," eh said, "wandering by lone sea-breakers and sitting by desolate streams; world losers and world forsakers, on whom the pale moon gleams: yet we are the movers and shakers of the world forever, it seems. With wonderful deathless ditties we build up the world's great cities. And out of a fabulous story, we fashion an empire's glory: one man with a dream, at pleasure, shall go forth and conquer a crown; and three with a new song's measure can trample an empire down." He knew there was another verse but had forgotten it, and wouldn't waste any time in moving to another poem.

"A little lack thing among the snow, crying "weep! Weep!" in notes of woe! "Where are thy father and mother, say?" "They are both gone up to the church to pray. Because I was happy upon the heath, and smiled among the winter's snow, they clothed me in the clothes of death, and taught me to sing the notes of woe. And because I am happy ad dance and sing, they think they have done me no injury, and are gone to praise God and his Priest and King, who make up a heaven of our misery.

"O my luve is like a red, red rose that's newly sprung in June; O my luve is like the melody that's sweetly played in tune. So fair art thou, by bonnie lass, so deep in luve am I; and I will luve thee still, my dear, till 'a the seas gang dry. Till 'a the seas gang dry, my dear, and the rocks melt wi' the sun; I will luve the still, my dear, while the sands of life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only luve! And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my luve, though it were a thousand mile.

"A wind sways the pines, and below not a breath of wild air; still as the mosses that glow on the flooring and over the lines of the roots here and there. The pine-tree drops its dead; they are quiet, as under the sea. Overhead, overhead rushes life in a race, as the clouds the clouds chase; and we go, and we drop like the fruits of the tree, even we, even so.

"The fountains mingle with the river and the rivers with the ocean, the winds of heaven mix forever with a sweet emotion; nothing in the world is single; all things by the law divine in one spirit meet and mingle. Why not I with thine? See the mountains kiss high heaven and the waves clasp one another; no sister-flower would be forgiven if it disdained its brother; and the sunlight clasps the earth and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what is all this sweet work worth, if thou kiss not me?"

He stopped short, feeling an indescribable need flowering in him. He had to have other poems in there somewhere, he knew he did.

"Before you, I was living on an island and all around the seas of that lonely coast cast up their imitation jewels, cast their fables and enigmasy, questioning, sly..."

Ulquiorra sat, waiting and ready on his bed, when Bob brought his food the next day. With his head recently cleared, he had formed a plan. It wasn't foolproof, but it would work more likely than not. "Hi," he said, kicking his legs over the edge of the bed as Bob closed the door behind him with one hand.

"Hello," Bob replied, giving the Aizen-smile, and Ulquiorra repressed his desire to shiver in disgust. "Did you dream last night?"

"I don't remember," Ulquiorra lied, taking the tray that was handed to him and putting it on his lap. "I don't think so."

"That's good news," Bob said. "It means the medicine worked."

"It must have," Ulquiorra said. "I feel more clearheaded."

"That's excellent," Bob said. "We'll tamper around with the dosage until we figure out what's best for you, but it's good to know it works." Ulquiorra nodded, taking the dixie cup.

"That's...this pill, isn't it?" he asked, purposefully pointing to one of the pills that he knew was something else.

"No, that's to help with your hallucinations," Bob said. "This one is to keep you clearheaded here." He was pointing down to an elongated, slightly purple pill.

"What's this one?" Ulquiorra asked, pointing to the larger of the white ones.

"That helps combat the side effects of this one," Bob said, pointing to the yellow one for hallucinations. Ulquiorra was pleased that Bob was so forthcoming without any more work- it would look strange if he wanted to know too bad- knowing that Bob underestimated his intelligence and had been lured into false security by Ulquiorra's apparent compliance. This was going perfectly.

"What about this one?" Ulquiorra pointed to the pink-ish pill.

"That's for your anxiety," Bob said, and Ulquiorra carefully hid his excitement.

"And this one?" he asked, pointing to the last pill in the cup. He had to appear for all the world like a simply curious little boy.

"For your paranoia," Bob said. Ulquiorra hid his reaction to this as well; paranoia? He'd been diagnosed with paranoia? "Now, slug them down," Ulquiorra poured them into his mouth, quickly pressing them into his cheek before downing the water. "Good boy. Now, do you have any more questions?"

"Yeah," Ulquiorra said, "just one. Do we have any books or anything to keep occupied with?"

"Yes, we do," Bob replied. "I can go get you one, but I have to come get it when it's lights-out."

"That's okay," Ulquiorra said. "Could you bring it back tomorrow?" He trie dot ignore the tiny clicking noise the pills made against his teeth as he spoke. Bob couldn't hear them, could he?

"Sure thing," Bob smiled sickly, once again patting Ulquiorra's knee a little too affectionately. "Any particular genre?"

"Anything's fine," Ulquiorra said, shaking his head. Bob stood.

"Alright, then, I'll be right back," he said. "Good to hear you're feeling more with us."

The instant the door was closed Ulquiorra got up and went over to the commode, fishing the pills out of his mouth. They had dissolved a little, and the taste was rancid. He picked out the pink one and threw the rest into the commode, then swiftly relieved himself so they would dissolve faster and so he had an excuse to close the lid. Bob couldn't see the pills in there. He popped the pink pill in his mouth and went back to his bed, sitting down again.

He started to eat his mashed potatoes, waiting for Bob to come back with something to read.


End file.
